One of the cruelties of the theatre of life is that we all think of ourselves as stars and rarely recognize it when we are indeed mere supporting characters or even supernumeraries

How could I reconcile this motherliness with the screeching fury who had pursued me around the kitchen with a whip, flogging me until she was gorged with—what? Vengeance?…What I knew then was that nobody—not even my mother—was to be trusted in a strange world that showed very little of itself on the surface.

I saw no reason why hell should not have, so to speak, visible branch establishments throughout the earth, and I have visited quite a few of them since.

I knew [my mother] had eaten my father, and I was glad I did not have to fight any longer to keep her from eating me”.

We have obligations above what is merely...